


By the Flip of a Coin

by inabsurd



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Gambling, M/M, Match Maker Magilou, Meddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25026043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabsurd/pseuds/inabsurd
Summary: “You’re insufferable, you know that?”“I do,” Magilou concedes, a wide grin stretching across her face, “You know you’re only so concerned with what Zaveid does because you like him, right?”In which Magilou is the greatest wingman ever, provided she has sufficient motivation. In this case, it's a bet and the look on Eizen's face when he catches on.
Relationships: Eizen/Zaveid (Tales of Series)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22
Collections: Oliver’s birthday zine





	By the Flip of a Coin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oliver__Niko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/gifts).



> Written as part of Oliver's Birthday Zine that a bunch of us put together. Now that he actually has the gift, I can post this for whoever else is interested ^_^
> 
> Also congrats to me for writing a monogamous relationship that isn't het lmao now if only I could get some femslash out there

“You and Zaveid need to cut it out.”

Magilou perks up immediately, peeling her face off of her keyboard giddily. She doesn’t bother to hide her staring, in fact she makes sure to look Eizen, her deskmate, right in the eyes.

He glares at her before turning to Velvet, “Tell him to stop excluding details from stories,” he counters.

Velvet scowls, “I don’t care what he excludes so long as it sells,” she reminds him, a growl rumbling deep from in her throat. Magilou’s working on an article that proves Velvet’s actually a flesh-hungry monster in disguise and finds herself desperately patting herself down for her tape recorder; that growl alone would be enough to blow any skeptics straight out of the water.

Eizen, to his credit, doesn’t flinch under their supervisor’s malevolent gaze--one of the reason’s Magilou likes him, she supposes.

“I know you don’t care for the integrity of journalism, but could you at least pretend to care about this company?” he grumbles.

“I do,” she waves a dismissive hand, “And Zavied’s stories sell better. Stop arguing with him and do your job,” Velvet walks off, passing Magilou’s desk. The blonde makes an exaggerated shiver as the other woman passes by, trembling in her seat so hard the wheels squeak under her.

“What a killjoy, huh?” Magilou leans forward towards Eizen conspiratorially.

The man doesn’t answer, he just picks up his typing at an aggressive pace. Magilou internally debates if it’d be worth starting a betting pool over how long it’ll take for keys to start popping off his keyboard, but in the next moment, one flies off and lands directly in his hair. Well, no use placing a bet now, but Magilou doesn’t waste any time before snapping a picture on her phone. It comes out surprisingly clear despite how she shakes with laughter.

Velvet walks by to smack her upside the head for her efforts but Magilou thinks it’s totally worth it.

Eizen groans, “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I do,” she concedes, a wide grin stretching across her face, “You know you’re only so concerned with what Zaveid does because you like him, right?”

Eizen sputters so hard he chokes on thin air.  _ Damn _ , Magilou wishes she’d held onto that particular detail until he’d taken a sip of coffee. 

“That’s not true,” his voice is hard and final, but she’s never let something as feeble as intimidation tactics get between her and the info she’s after.

“Oh, denial!” she flips open a little notebook, pen in hand before Eizen can blink, “And how exactly do you rationalize your incessant nosiness that only applies to Zaveid?”

“I don’t have to rationalize anything,” he glares, “Everyone else is decent enough at their jobs that I don’t need to worry about it.”

Magilou writes  _ Eizen thinks I’m a great journalist,  _ down in messy scrawl, “Mmhm. And is that why you two always go out for drinks after work?”

For a second, it looks like Eizen is winding up for some self-righteous speech about invading his privacy or something, but he instead just rubs the bridge of his nose with a bit more force than necessary, “That doesn’t mean anything. Rokurou comes with us all the time anyway.”

Well, he has a point there, but Magilou can detect bitter emotions from a mile away and,  _ wow,  _ they’re just  _ oozing  _ off of Eizen. Looks like someone’s been trying to make a move for quite a while but can’t find the alone-time to do it. 

“Eizen,” Magilou looks the man dead in the eye, not a hint of a smile on her face, “You like him. I can practically  _ taste  _ the homoerotic rivalry.”

Behind them, Eleanor drops a stack of files, her face tomato red as she eyes Magilou in not-quite-horror.

“Eleanor!” Velvet shouts from her office, beckoning their newbie journalist over.

“Crap,” the redhead mutters, scurrying off to join her.

Magilou turns back to her deskmate, but Eizen is already up and heading towards the staircase, some shouted excuse of “Meeting with a promising source,” tossed out seconds before the door slams shut behind him.

Rokurou, a couple of desks over, mouths,  _ What did you do? _

She mouths back an indignant,  _ Nothing! _ right as Eleanor is dismissed from the office  _ (looking oddly cheerful for what surely was a scolding?) _ and Magilou’s name is yelled in turn.

The blonde slumps.

* * *

Magilou shows up early to work the next day, probably for the first time in her entire career. She needs to meet up with Rokurou and, thanks to the grand re-opening of the Rangetsu Dojo (circumstances of its prior closing being a topic closed to discussion), he’s at the office early for an interview. He’d wanted to write the article himself since it’s his family’s dojo but, yeah, that looks kind of bad, so Eleanor’s writing the article instead. Rokurou managed to negotiate himself into being an unlisted co-author, though, since it’s the woman’s first major story.

The blonde frowns at the insinuation that Velvet must have some kind of heart after all if she was willing to compromise with Rokurou. Reluctantly, she writes the information into the  _ Velvet Is Maybe Not A Full-Blooded Flesh-Hungry Monster  _ column of her notebook.

Rokurou and Eleanor are in one of the unused offices on their floor, mid-question when Magilou barges in. Rokurou almost looks like he expected her but the redhead rants and raves at being interrupted. Magilou listens until she gets bored before she drags Rokurou bodily from the room and shuts the door on Eleanor’s face.

“So what’s this about?” Rokurou asks, cocking his head to the side like a curious little puppy.

“I need a favour,” she says, completely serious. The instant upturn of Rokurou’s face tells her that she’s playing a dangerous game.

“ _ Oh-ho-ho!  _ A favour from me?”

Magilou nods, “Next time you, Eizen, and Zaveid go drinking, I need you to bow out-- _ without  _ telling them.”

He blinks, “What, just no-show?”

“Exactly. I need those two alone,” she waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Rokurou pauses, considers, and then understanding dawns on his face, “ _ Oh _ . Does this have anything to do with Eizen storming out yesterday?”

“Are you in or are you out?” the blonde demands instead. It’s probably for the best that she doesn’t give Rokurou a chance to think; it usually ends badly for her when he does.

The man shrugs, “Sure, why not?”

Magilou grins, wide and feral.  _ Oh, yeah, this is gonna work. _

* * *

The following days are pretty quiet. Apparently, Eizen really  _ did  _ have some super helpful source and, after that and some digging, he managed to single-handedly track down a missing person where the police had only gotten as far as the primary location (a.k.a. the place the original witness  _ told them to go _ , cue eye-roll). Eizen wrote one helluva article about it all--Magilou read it, helluva is, in fact, the correct descriptor--but she was a little preoccupied with other, more important, matters to really care about what her coworker was up to.

“Really, tonight?” she bounces on the balls of her feet, their creaky little elevator rocking in tandem with her excited movements. The elevator is the unspoken I’m-avoiding-Eizen spot because the man never uses the thing; too afraid that his infamous bad luck will send half the staff plummeting to their deaths. They used to tease him for his silly superstition, but everyone collectively agreed it was for the best after he blew up their photocopier the third time. It’s a miracle the man’s allowed a laptop.

Rokurou grins, “We’re headin’ to the Van Eltia tonight,” he says, “It’s the little pub on-”

“-The corner of one-hundred-and-second, yeah, I know,” her partner in crime blinks, “What time?”

“‘Round six or so. I told them I was gonna be late, but I’m gonna skip out. I’ll phone in at seven and let them know I won’t make it.”

“Perfect.”

The elevator door dings at their office floor. Magilou and Rokurou leap to either end of its interior just in time for the doors to open.

“I’m makin’ a coffee run, do you guys want anything?” Zaveid asks, eyes darting between the two of them suspiciously.

Magilou spins out of the elevator in her best impersonation of a pink tornado and launches herself at Zaveid just for the pleasure of being able to hang off of him, “Yeah, I’ll take a French vanilla mocha latte with three extra shots of espresso, whip cream, with a strawberry, caramel drizzle on top!” she makes sure to relay all of this at top-volume, directly into his ear.

Rokurou’s eyes bug out of his skull, “Is-is that even a real drink?”

Magilou winks at him. 

Zaveid groans, “Who cares? If you want something that complicated, go get it yourself,” and bodily tosses her from his shoulders. He’s jamming the down button half a second later, only barely acknowledging Rokurou’s hasty request for a large black coffee.

* * *

Magilou steps out onto the bar floor ten-after-seven, pilfered name-tag secured to her shirt and a vase of roses tucked under her arm. “Refills, gentlemen?” she asks, setting the bouquet down between her two coworkers.

Zaveid gapes, but Eizen looks...bored.  _ Damn, did Rokurou rat me out? _

“Uh, Magilou, what’s all this?” the white-haired man asks. He looks a little red in the neck-- _ I knew I wasn’t off base! _

“Just a little gift from yours truly,” she smiles sweetly.

Eizen looks on the verge of face-planting into the table and never moving again, “Just ignore her, Zaveid. She’s been scheming all week,” he glares.

The woman raises her wrists like she’s waiting to be slapped in handcuffs, “Guilty! But I only have your best intentions at heart.”

“You have a heart?” Eizen asks, looking almost genuinely surprised. Zaveid snorts.

_ Ouch _ . Magilou can’t help the slow smirk that makes its home on her face. “Just for that, I’m gonna torment you two  _ all night _ .”

“Like you weren’t going to do that anyway,” Eizen rolls his eyes.

Magilou shrugs but, yeah, he’s got her there. She’ll just have to screw up his drink a few times as payback.

“How’d you get in here anyway?” Zaveid asks, eyes lingering on the name-tag that proclaims her to be someone named Medissa.

She waves a hand dismissively, “Manager owes me a favour. So, what are we drinking?”

“Wait, wait, wait-”

Magilou cringes.

“-Why should we stay?”

_ Maybe I should have waited to show up until they were a little more drunk,  _ “Because if you walk out now, I win my bet with Rokurou,” she declares proudly. It’s entirely untrue, too, but Eizen knows her love of gambling so maybe he’ll fall for it.

“And why would you tell us the conditions of your bet?” Zaveid interrupts, hands spread wide.

“Relax, that’s only one portion. We made bets for the entire evening.”

“And how,” Eizen raises an eyebrow, “Did you convince him to help you with your little plan?”

Magilou giggles. It’s cute that he thinks Rokurou needed any convincing. “Don’t worry about that, just gimme your orders before I grab something at random.”

Eizen and Zaveid share a look so in sync that Magilou thinks Eizen must be blind not to catch onto his own feelings. That, or he’s just in deep denial because Zaveid’s  _ super  _ hung up on his ex, but  _ still _ . Eizen’s never really been a run-from-his-feelings type of guy, it’d just be sad to adopt the practise now. Good thing she’s here to keep Eizen from becoming a complete loser and maybe make some cash in the process. Her mind flitters back to the conversation she’d had with Velvet almost a week ago.

She needs to make this work out in her favour.

The men eventually order, too curious to see if they can work out Magilou’s angle to risk going home and allowing her to win money regardless. From there, it’s easy to slide them extra drinks-- _ out of my own pocket! Damn manager _ \--and not-so-subtly steer the conversation in her favour.

Actually, they steer it pretty well on their own, Magilou’s presence just serves as fuel for the already blazing inferno. Snippets of conversation like, “ _ And then she said that we’re fighting because I  _ like  _ you,”  _ and “ _ It’s been a year since Theodora...well, you know. I’ve been thinking of gettin’ back out there,”  _ let Magilou know she’s on the right track, but even drunk off their asses, the two seem content to skirt around the subject like  _ lesbians _ . They need a push, and they need it before one of them passes out or they decide to turn in.

_ Or last call,  _ she adds mentally, glancing at the time.

Satisfied that both their drinks are full, Magilou sneaks off to the washroom, hitting the call button on her phone before the stall door swings shut.

The dialling tone sounds a ridiculous number of times before Rokurou  _ finally _ picks up.

_ “What?”  _ he moans. Huh. Must’ve been asleep.

“These two are  _ hopeless _ . They keep dancing around the subject and Eizen looks closer to throwing up than confessing his feelings!”

_ “...How much did you  _ give  _ him?”  _ Rokurou asks, sounding a little awed.

“That doesn’t matter!” Magilou huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face, “What do I do?” 

_ “I dunno, get them under some mistletoe?” _

“Rokurou, it’s the middle of summer! Even I don’t have mistletoe on me, and I doubt there’s any just tucked away in Medissa’s locker!”

“Who’s Medi-”

Magilou groans, sounding a little too similar to Velvet for her to be comfortable with, “Focus. I need a surefire way to get them to confess! A trick, or a competition, or-”

_ “Or,” _ Rokurou interrupts, sounding smug,  _ “You need to rig it.” _

“...I’m listening.”

* * *

The method itself is deceptively simple. The only things she needs is Eizen and something that can put him in a losing position--and with his terrible luck, he’s  _ going  _ to be in the losing position. The only problem will be convincing them to play, but that’s why she comes back to their table with shots.

“You,” Eizen points his fifth and final shot glass at Magilou, “Are trying to kill us,” despite his accusation, he pounds back the liquor.

“I don’t think it counts since you two are  _ clearly  _ willing victims,” she dismisses. She piles their empty glasses back onto the tray and then lays a single quarter on the table, “Eizen, flip this,” she demands.

Eizen shrugs and reaches for it, deftly flipping the coin into the air half a second later.

“Tails!” Magilou calls. Eizen’s eyes widen with dread.

He catches the quarter, reflexes ridiculously good for someone so completely shitfaced, and removes his palm.

It’s tails, and absolutely no one is surprised.

“So what was the coin toss for?” asks Zaveid, not quite cluing in to Eizen’s dread or Magilou’s manic glee.

“You two,” she points with both hands, “Have to kiss!”

“What?”

“In your dreams!”

She shushes them both, “No, in reality. C’mon, hop to it. I won the toss.”

They share another one of their looks, “Shouldn’t the conditions of the toss be stated  _ before  _ the coin toss?” Eizen points out.

“Who are you, the coin toss referee?”

“Well, actually,” Magilou’s eye twitches as Zaveid speaks, “Since he tossed the coin, that means you were playing against  _ me _ , so, yeah, he’s the ref.”

“That’s not how coin tosses work at all!” the woman protests, “And either way I  _ won _ , so you have to kiss.”

“We didn’t know what we were getting into!” Eizen protests.

Magilou’s fists clench uselessly at her sides, “Urg, you’re going to choke on your feelings at this rate.”

“I told you,” he says slowly, like he’s speaking to a toddler, “I don’t feel that way about Zaveid.”

Zaveid, just out of Eizen’s view, visibly scoffs.

“Okay, I have a counter-proposal,” she suggests, “Flip the coin again. If I win, you two kiss.”

“But you’ll just call tails again,” Zaveid points out.

Magilou gives him her best  _ whose-side-are-you-on-I’m-trying-to-help-you _ look, “Okay, how ‘bout this? Heads, I win. Tails, you lose.”

“Heads, I win. Tails, you...Magilou-”

She winces. She should have known Eizen wouldn’t fall for that one, even absolutely wrecked.

“-Oh, just flip the damn coin,” Zaveid grumbles.

Magilou freezes. Huh. She's not used to  _ being  _ the one surprised. It feels kind of good.

Eizen gives Zaveid a long, hard look, “Are you serious?” he asks, sounding almost sober.

“Do I ever say things I don’t mean?” he counters.

That is, apparently, good enough for Eizen. He forgoes the coin entirely and instead grabs Zaveid by the hair, pulling the man close for a long, charged kiss. Now, Magilou wouldn’t say she saw sparks fly-

She snaps a photo.

-Without the evidence to prove it.

They break apart panting and looking absolutely  _ pissed _ .

“Did you seriously-”

“What the hell do you need that for?”

Magilou grins, “Why, for the bet of course!”

Eizen's face twists into something between betrayal and the physical representation of of-course-you-did, “You bet Rokurou that we’d kiss?”

‘No, no, no, silly,” she pauses just long enough to watch Zaveid slump naively and Eizen tense further in preparation for the blow she’s about to strike; smart man, “I bet Velvet.”

Magilou had spent all week guessing what Eizen’s face would look like when he realized she’d dragged their boss into his personal life, but whatever images she’d conjured in her mind couldn’t hold a candle to the tight-jawed, fiery-eyed, subtly contained rage she sees now. She takes another picture.

“Whatever comes next,” Eizen growls, “This is just the first step to kill you!” his chair clatters behind him, Zaveid looking only mildly amused at the show.

Magilou doesn’t bother to stick around and dashes through the bar door before the man can take another step, giggling all the way. Who knew Eizen could be such an emotional drunk?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated


End file.
